The Windmills Of Your Mind
by MistressSara
Summary: "A Wheatfield with Cypresses is a forgery. A good one, but it's clearly not the original." The young restorer spotted the fake, the art thief spotted the girl. Theirs would be a thrilling journey. Andith.
1. The Meeting

A Thomas Crown Affair reimagining… because why not? A little bit from the original, a little from the remake, a lot of my own, and that damn song stuck in your head every time you read the title.

**x-X-x**

Edith Crawley loved her job. Every day she woke up, navigated her bicycle throughout the streets of London, eventually arriving at her shared studio. There she would spend the hours of the day restoring works of art. It had started out as a side job and quickly flourished into a career, one that allowed her to work in solitary, alone with her paints and record collection. She would open the windows on sunny days and let the light fill her studio in the top floor of a building her father owned. Most days she would arrived with a new piece delivered for her attentions.

Today was a Leighton painting.

An Austen-esque painting, it looked like a scene from Mansfield Park with Edmund looking lovingly at Fanny. It was a lovely scene, one that Edith was pleased to be absorbed with all day.

It was a cool spring day, the rain had finally let up and the sun was beginning to peak through the clouds that lingered. Edith was pleased to open her windows as she slipped out of her houndstooth ballet flats. Her black trousers were tailored to her perfectly, paired with a silky lilac blouse. Today wasn't a painting day sadly, she had a meeting with the museum director, then another at a small gallery she was trying to convince to carry her original work. But first the Leighton would be assessed and notes made about what she would have to work on.

**x-X-x**

Anthony Strallan was in his usual spot that morning at the National Gallery. He had left his driver waiting out front, along with the rest of his cares, and took solace in the seat on the bench in front of A Wheatfield, with Cypresses by Van Gogh. It was the painting that held his eye this month, offering a bit of cheer after the long winter.

"Back again, Sir Anthony?" Came a voice from behind him.

"Can't help myself, Sir Richard." Anthony replied, slow to turn around and face the man. Richard Carlisle was a prick, one that most found difficult to put up with, Anthony much preferred to push his buttons. He was also the museum director, although no one was quite sure why as the man seemed to despise art. "What brings you to this wing today?"

"Meeting a young lady."

"Your wife is all right with that?"

"My wife's sister. Who also happens to be one of the restorers here."

"Which was she first?"

"Latter. I don't allow for nepotism, only favors."

"I often forget what a gentleman you are, Richard."

"Yes. Well, enjoy your gazing." Richard nodded, turning to leave the wing.

"Shall." Anthony muttered, turning back to the painting but suddenly finding his view blocked by a slender woman with light coppery hair cut short and curled softly. Her large brown eyes focused on the same painting he had been observing. "It's one of my favorites."

It took Edith a moment to realize she was being addressed, when she finally did turn she found herself compelled to smile at the blonde man behind her. He wore what she knew from a lifetime of being around them, a rather expensive three piece suit, and his tie nearly the same shade as her blouse. His blue eyes seemed to take her in just the way they would a painting, with a smile he slid over on the bench, allowing room for her to sit beside him.

"Sunflowers for me." She admitted with a small smile.

"Sir Anthony Strallan." He offered his hand.

"Lady Edith Crawley if we're using titles."

"Oh, you're Mary's sister."

"You know Mary?"

"Her husband. He was just through here waiting for you." Anthony nodded towards the hallway Richard had disappeared down.

"Oh joy, he'll be in a lovely mood then."

"Isn't he always?"

Edith laughed, realizing that he was still holding her hand. His eyes followed hers to where their fingers were touching and quickly let go. Both muttering apologies.

"I should probably go find him."

"What are you meeting about if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm helping organize the Manet exhibit."

"Oh yes! I heard that there was something in the works. I look forward to it."

"As do I. Lovely to meet you, Sir Anthony."

"And you, Lady Edith."

He watched as she walked away before standing up, taking his briefcase in hand and strolling back outside to where his driver was waiting with the Bentley. As soon as he stepped outside his smile seemed to grow wider and wider, Lady Edith noticed, she must've. Which meant he found just the help he would need.

**x-X-x**

"Edith! It's about bloody time!" Richard greeted his sister-in-law, throwing his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the roped off, empty hallway where they were intending to host the new exhibit.

"Richard—"

"Yes, I know, you're terribly sorry for being late."

"Well, yes, but—" She tried again.

"Not a problem, I've just been strolling through the halls like a commoner."

"Did you pass the Van Gogh?"

"I did, saw old Strallan musing it like he does every bloody day."

"Oh good, then you realize that it's a fake." Edith shrugged casually, continuing to walk on, leaving her brother-in-law stunned in her wake.

"What?"

"A Wheatfield, with Cypresses is a forgery. A good one, but it's clearly not the original."

"How-?" He stammered.

"No idea. Someone clever, clearly." Edith had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at Richard's reaction. She would need to find a way to meet Sir Anthony Strallan again and perhaps ask him how he managed the swap. There was no way he hadn't noticed, the man came day after day to stare at the fake, anyone who had study the painting that closely would have realized by now. The fact that he hadn't said anything meant one thing: Sir Anthony Strallan was the art thief that had been quietly plucking priceless treasure for the last 15 years. Edith felt certain she would be the one to finally catch him.


	2. The Party

Anthony Strallan lounged back in his office chair, gazing happily at the canvas now hanging in the hollow nook hidden above the mantel. When he pressed the button beneath the desk top the false screen would drop down displaying a simply painting of sailboats. But presently A Wheatfield with Cypresses, the real one, occupied the spot. As he reached for the tumbler of whiskey on the edge of his desk his smile grew into a grin, which morphed into laughter. Uncontrollable laughter. He was just so terribly pleased with himself, Richard had no idea the painting was a fake until now. He was certain the young Lady Edith pointed out the fraud to Richard by now. Even still, there was no way to tie the theft back to him.

Once he had himself under control his focus turned to a stack of mail left on his desk by his personal secretary Mrs. Jameson. Invitations, at least 15 of them, for the ever popular widower. The society widows all vied for his attentions, all of them failing. Along with the young climbers looking for a wealthy husband to take care of them. Anthony had no interest in them either, were he to ever wed again it would be to his equal. Speaking of which—

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the engagement of Sybil Crawley to Thomas Branson. To be held at the National Gallery on Friday the—_

"Oh, now that's just perfect." He laughed again, reaching for the phone.

**x-X-x**

"Edith I expect you there early, dressed appropriately, and for goodness sake wash that paint off your hands." Cora instructed her daughter while pacing around the small studio. The downside to renting space from her parents was that they had access to her at all times.

"What is appropriate dress?" Edith asked trying to stifle a sigh.

"Formal. That peach gown of yours will suffice."

Edith just nodded and continued to focus on the canvas in front of her.

"What else was I going to tell you?" Cora pondered aloud. "Oh, there was a package out front for you."

"What?" Edith knew better than to be surprised that her mother couldn't be bothered to bring the package in. It was a quick jaunt down the three flights of stairs and back up. It was a large box from a department store, something she didn't remember ordering.

Edith carefully untied the ribbon before slowly pulling the lid off. On top of the tissue paper sat a small card that simply read:

_If I may be so bold, wear this Friday?_

"Who is it from?"

"Unsigned." Edith shrugged, but she could guess from the AS embossed on the thick card stock. Beneath the silver paper rested a beautiful dark green silk gown. A thin halter strap held the beaded cups in place, the fabric was fitted down to the hips where the skirt flared out slightly to allow for walking comfortably. It was gorgeous and would fit her perfectly.

"Edith! Why is a stranger sending you a gown like that?" Her mother demanded.

"Friendly stranger." She shrugged with a smile. "Will this suffice?"

**x-X-x**

The night of the engagement party arrived rather quickly. Edith was still unsure what she thought of Anthony Strallan. It was a bold man to send such an expensive gift to a woman he had only just met. If he was expecting something in return he would be sorely disappointed. She would wear the dress just the same.

"Edie, what are you doing in there?" Sybil called from the bedroom.

"I'm almost ready, hold on!"

Such a dramatic dress required a bit of flair. Edith opted for large, soft curls and a slightly heavier makeup than she would normally use. Her eyes were lined heavily with smoky eye shadow, her lips were a deep, inviting red.

"Honestly, Edie, it isn't your engagement party!"

"I'm ready, I'm ready." With a deep breath she pulled the door open welcoming in her sister's opinion. "So?"

"Wow." Was all that Sybil managed taking in the image of her well dressed sister. The green silk dress fit her like a glove, providing a fair bit of cleavage, though not obscene. She had settled on a pair of strappy silver heels that added a few more inches to her height and kept the hem of the dress from dragging on the floor. "Did he send the shoes as well?"

"Thought of everything."

"What fun! Do you know who it is? Mother made it sound as though it was some psychopath."

"I've got it puzzled out, but I didn't want to tell her."

"SO?" Sybil seemed to be bouncing with excitement.

"Anthony Strallan."

"The one who went to school with father?" She seemed to fade for a moment.

"Don't say it like that."

"No, no. He must be marvelous if he's clever enough to start pursuing you. Next will be your wedding. Provided Mary doesn't beat you to it."

"I think her husband might mind."

"She's been stepping out."

"Let me be shocked for a moment." Edith managed with mock surprise.

"I know."

"Matthew again?"

"Of course."

"She needs to be careful."

"I've told her, you think she listens to her baby sister?"

"No more than she listens to me. I don't know why she does that to Richard. I know he can be a bit of a bastard at times, but I've always gotten on well with him."

"Well if things don't work out with Strallan and Mary divorces Richard you could be his third wife." Sybil laughed, reaching for the clutch and shawl she left draped over the edge of her sister's bed.

"Tempting." Edith wouldn't need a backup plan, she had very high hopes for Anthony.

**x-X-x**

The National Gallery was beautifully done up for the night. Cora Crawley had a marvelous gift for party planning and always enjoyed the opportunity to do so for her daughters. Thanks to Richard they were able to enjoy most of museum after hours, given a very strict promise that food and drink would be kept a safe distance from the art. The lighting was dim and a playlist of what Cora considered appropriate music filtered in through a relatively unused sound system. All of these details were lost on Edith who was busy trying to casually scan the crowds for her not-so-secret admirer.

"Edith!" Richard called to her from across the room, his wife on his arm and looking less than thrilled.

"Evening." Edith greeted dutifully, sparing one last glance around the hordes of people before focusing on the two in front of her.

"Wow." Gasped Richard as he took in the redhead's appearance.

"Seems to be the consensus tonight." Edith blushed.

"Really Edith, it's Sybil's night." Mary chastised, although her own dress was a fair bit more revealing than Edith's. The bright red was sure to catch the eye of a blind man.

"Let her be, she looks stunning." Richard cut his wife off, moving to guide Edith away. "I've someone for you to meet."

He led her through the crowds towards the bar where a blonde man was waiting. He was woefully underdressed in a black suit with no tie, it was a wonder Cora had let him in. Although as a friend of Richard it was clearly not a problem.

"DI Michael Gregson, this is Edith Crawley."

"Pleasure." The blonde man smiled, holding out his hand.

"Same."

"Gregson specializes in art theft and has been assigned to find my missing Van Gogh." Richard explained. "Edith here is the one who spotted that we had been duped."

"Good eye." The DI complimented handing her a glass of champagne.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then." Richard announced disappearing into the sea of people.

"Thank you. Is part of my trade though."

"What trade is that?"

"I restore paintings. Can spot a fake when faced with one."

"Yes, well, I wonder if you might take a stroll with me through the galleries one day. Richard would like to make sure there aren't any more."

"Of course."

"Lady Edith." Came a voice from behind her. A coy grin rose to her face, for a brief moment Gregson thought it might be for him but quickly found himself faced with her back.

"Sir Anthony." She felt a bit breathless at the sight of him in a well tailored tuxedo. Perhaps she could be convinced to let him help remove her dress.

"You look stunning. I thought we might take in a few paintings since we're here?" He asked, gesturing towards one of the nearby open wings.

"That would be lovely." She began to follow him when she remembered the DI. "Oh, Mr. Gregson, I'm sorry. Get in touch with Richard, we'll set up a time, yes?"

"Of course."

Edith turned back to Anthony, taking his offered arm and allowing him to guide her away.

"We'll be taking in the paintings, not taking them, right?" She whispered as they walked along the halls.

"Whatever do you mean by that, Lady Edith?" Anthony asked in a low, knowing tone.

With a wryer grin she pulled gently on his arm, leading him down another hallway that appeared rather empty. With a quick hand Anthony lifted a bottle of champagne from a passing waiter.

"We can share your glass." He offered.

"But first, tell me how you did it."

"Did what?" He tried with an innocent expression as he topped off her glass.

"We'll start with the Van Gogh."


	3. The Lovely Evening

"This one?" Anthony asked as Edith finally settled on a bench for them to sit on and enjoy their champagne.

"This one." She nodded taking a seat in front of the Manet.

"The Bar at the Folies-Bergeres?" He seemed a bit shocked taking the spot next to her. He refilled their shared glass before setting the bottle on the floor.

"I've always liked it."

"Tell me why." He coaxed with a smile, taking a sip before passing the crystal flute to her.

"She looks so dreadfully bored while everyone around her is having fun." After a sip and a laugh she added, "which is generally what I look like at parties."

"I'm afraid I don't see the resemblance. You, my dear, have more of a—hmm—"

"More of a what?" She asked nervously.

"I was trying to think of a painting that compares to you and not a single work comes to mind. Not even our skeptical barmaid at Folie-Bergeres." Anthony admitted.

"Well, I look a fair bit different tonight. Usually I'm holding up a wall in an adequate, mother-approved dress. Not having a casual chat with a dashing man who may also turn out to be a renowned art thief."

"I don't know about renowned." Anthony began slowly, momentarily distracted by a fleeting image of having Edith up against the wall. The green silk skirt hiked up around her waist while her legs wrapped around his waist. "Or art thief for that matter. I am a great art lover."

"I'm sure you're a great lover of many…" Edith suddenly flushed, realizing she spoke aloud, and took a gulp of champagne. "… Many works of art."

"I've seen a lot of art in my life. Paintings, sculptures, sketches, many of them beautiful, but as I sit here surrounded by tombs of work, I can easily say that you are the most beautiful creation I've ever seen."

"Dashing art thieves are suppose to be capable liars I suppose, but you're taking it a bit far, Sir Anthony."

"Nonsense." He replied firmly, taking her hand and setting the glass on the floor next to the rapidly emptying bottle. "In my many—many years on this earth, I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you."

She began to speak only to be cut off by Anthony reaching for her right hand and bringing it to his lips.

"Believe me." He smiled gently.

"You still haven't answered my question." Edith prompted with a blush.

"Which question? Ah, how did I steal the painting from the museum? Simple, I didn't."

"Someone did it for you?" He cocked a weary eyebrow at her, reaching for their drink again. "From what I hear you stop by to see that painting everyday and have done so for months. Someone with such a keen eye for art would have noticed that it was a fake."

"I did notice, but it's just bad manners to mention—" She gave him a doubtful look. "It gave me a bit of pleasure to know that Richard was boasting about what has turned out to be a forgery."

Edith couldn't help but laugh at his boyish grin and unabashed delight at pulling one over on Richard. She found she quite like Anthony smiling, he looked rather attractive to begin with, but the expression seemed to brighten his eyes. Without knowing much about his life, Edith was rather capable of spotting the marks of a kindred spirit. Yes, Anthony Strallan had suffered pain in his life, probably much earlier than one should, which would explain his second go at life now.

"Well?"

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"More?" He asked again, offering her the glass.

"Please."

"That's the last of it." He apologized, emptying the last of the bottle.

"We can split it." Edith offered with a smile, drinking half of the bubbly liquid in one go before passing the rest to him.

"I was going to say we could start another bottle."

"I won't be able to walk home if I have any more."

"Then don't walk. I can arrange a ride for you."

"You've arranged more than enough for me tonight."

"The gown?"

"Yes. It's lovely, I really—I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll sneak out of the party with me." He asked excitedly.

"Where would we be sneaking off to?"

"That, my dear, is a surprise." Edith stared at him for a long moment. She was already rather far out on this branch, might as well keep climbing.

"What are we waiting for?"

**x-X-x**

It had been rather easy to sneak out of the party. Anthony had taken her hand and carefully led her through the outskirts of the room, going largely unnoticed by most everyone, save for DI Gregson. He watched from across the room as the pair made their way towards a staff exit. As they slipped out of the door Edith managed to grab another bottle of champagne from a passing waiter.

"I thought you were done?" Anthony teased.

"Well, since you're kindly offering me a ride." She shrugged with a smile.

"Sir." Anthony's driver greeted from the curb at the back of the museum where he was waiting with the vintage, silver Jaguar. "Miss."

"You were planning to escape the whole time?" Edith asked, surprised that the man was already waiting for them.

"I had a rather hopeful hunch." Anthony grinned, opening the door for her.

They drove through the streets of London, Edith without a care in the world as to where they were going. It took her a few moments before realizing which direction they were going.

"What are we doing here?" Edith asked as the car came to a stop outside of the skyscraper.

"Thought we might take in the view." He shrugged, holding his hand out to her. She took it, allowing him to lead her from the car to the lobby.

"Can we get in so late?"

"You're in luck, I'm the owner."

Edith gaped at the back of Anthony's head as he continued to pull her towards the private elevator that would take them to the rooftop patio. There the whole of London could be seen, lit rather beautifully against the night sky.

"What a view." Edith marveled, completely unaware that Anthony was staring at her rather than the city.

"Indeed." He agreed, popping the cork on their stolen bottle of bubbly and pouring them both a glass. "To us, a lovely evening."

"A lovely evening." Little was Edith aware that across town, back at the museum a fire alarm had been triggered, the party evacuated, and another piece of art swapped out for a fake. All Edith knew was that Anthony's hand on her lower back felt divine and his lips against hers made it easy to forget about the rest of the world. "Perhaps a lovely night?"


	4. The Concept of Relaxation

In honor of the Andith-fest on Tumblr.

Also a reminder that a) this is clearly an AU with some OOC tendencies and b) this rated M for a reason… a delightful, delightful reason.

**x-X-x**

Edith was reluctant to wake, the bed she found herself ensconced in was so warm and comfortable, however the irritating trill of her cell phone left no other alternative. Her thoughts were sluggish to process the incoming information, the first of which was _this is not your bed_. Followed of course by _why does my head hurt _and _how did I end up here_?

"I'm begging you, answer that or turn it off." Came a voice from behind her.

Shifting beneath the heavy comforter Edith became aware of the fact that it wasn't just a blanket curled around her but the left arm of Anthony Strallan. Glancing behind over her shoulder she was met with a rather adorable baronet with his blonde hair mussed by sleep and seemingly content to spend the day dozing beside her.

"You'll have to let me go for either of those things to happen." She pointed out gently.

"Very well, but I do so under protest." He sighed, pulling his arm away and allowing her to get up. Her clutch was somewhere in the bedroom, it was simply a matter of following the ringtone. As she made her way towards the chair where her gown was draped across the back and her shoes were strewed haphazardly in front of.

"Hello?"

"Where on earth are you?" Came Richard's demanding tone.

"Where on earth am I supposed to be?" Edith questioned glancing at the clock on Anthony's bedside table only to become distracted by the fact that he was watching her closely. Glancing down she took into account that she was still wearing her lingerie from the night before. It was clear that nothing happened between them other than a great deal of champagne, a fair bit of snogging judging by her slightly swollen lips, and eventually sleep. Regardless, she was quite pleased that she had decided on her silver balconette bra embellished with black lace and the matching bottoms. Judging from Anthony's expression he was rather pleased with her selection as well. "It's only 5.30."

"Yes, but you were going to come in and walk the galleries with Gregson before opening."

"We hadn't agreed on a time."

"Yes, but after last night I asked Gregson to make this top priority."

"What happened last night?" Edith asked, her gaze narrowing on Anthony who continued to smile fondly at her.

"The mysterious fire alarm, the one that moved the entire party to the street. You're mother had a very public scene with the party planner. How much did you drink last night that you missed this?"

"I'm afraid I ducked out a bit early actually."

"Of course you did." The serious tone dropped as Richard chuckled heartily. "How could you not in that dress? Who's the lucky bastard?"

"None of your concern. Was there an actual fire?"

"A small blaze according to the catering staff but I found the story difficult to believe."

"Of course you did. I—uh—" Edith hesitated, watching Anthony pull back the covers on her side of the bed to try and coax her back. "I can't come in today, how about tomorrow?"

"Monday." Anthony whispered as she climbed back into the spot next to him.

"Monday." Edith quickly amended.

"Maybe Tuesday." He offered with a shrug and a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Edith Crawley putting off work for a man? Well now you'll _have_ to tell me who charmed you to this extent!"

"Not going to happen. I'll see you Monday." Edith grinned, quickly ending the call and setting her phone aside. "The strangest thing happened after we left the gallery last night."

"Oh?" Anthony asked, snaking his arm back around her waist, pulling her down into the bedding with him.

"Yes, apparently a fire alarm went off—"

"Sensitive little devices."

"Indeed. The party had to be evacuated out onto the street."

"Hopefully your sister and her fiancé weren't upset."

"I'm sure Sybil was fine. So, if I won't be going into work this weekend what will I be doing?"

"I was planning on a quick jaunt to the country, perhaps you'd like to join me?"

"And what precisely will we be doing in the countryside?" Edith asked, tossing her phone aside and turning so that she was laying half on top of Anthony. He apparently got a bit further undressing last night than she did, clad only in a pair of blue boxers. It was difficult to muffle her moan at the feeling of her bare skin against his.

"Relaxation?"

"Sorry, not a concept I'm familiar with." She laughed, reaching up to smooth his hair back into place.

"It has taken many years, but I find it's rather enjoyable. Could go for walks?"

"I enjoy a brisk walk." Edith nodded, allowing herself to be pulled completely on top of him. The evidence of what might have occurred last night was pressing rather insistently against her stomach. With a coy smile she shifted against him, prompting a rather surprised moan as his hands gripped her tighter. "What else could we do to relax?"

"Oh—uh—," it was terribly fun to see his usual air of self-confidence and control slip for a moment as she pulled herself up a bit further so that she was straddling him, the contact enough to make them both groan in pleasure despite the layers between. "I have a rather impressive art collection that m- might be of inter- ah interest to you."

"We do have a shared love of art." Edith nodded, shifting so that her silk covered breasts were pressed against his bare chest. Her hands found his shoulders and she used his solid frame as leverage to begin rocking back and forth against him. "Perhaps we could come up with one more activity?"

"I'll think of something." He answered quickly before pulling her down into a kiss. The teasing words had become superfluous; he needed to taste her lips against his as he had a few hours prior. He behaved like a gentleman then, it was clear that she had had too much to drink, and while he willingly returned her kisses when her hands had sought out the buttons and zips that separated them he stopped her. Now was a different matter, now she was in her right mind again and, magnificently enough, still wanted him. In keeping with his less than gentleman-like behavior, his own fingers sought out the clasp of her bra. The garment was quickly undone and hung loose between their bodies.

Neither made any effort to remove any other article of clothing, mainly because that would mean parting from one another. Instead they both moved a bit harder against each other, Anthony couldn't help the surge of male pride he felt at the image he had been presented with. Edith had gone a bit red in the face with their endeavors while her soft curls looked rather wild as they tumbled down to her shoulders. With a soft groan she pulled herself back slightly to attain a better grip, it was the first glance he had of her bare breasts. The sight caused something in his head to shift and Edith suddenly found herself on her back with Anthony's mouth lowered to one mound of flesh while his fingers saw to the other.

"Anth—oh!" Was all she could manage as her hips reacted to the jolt of pleasure his tongue and lips were provoking. He rearranged their legs so that she could find a bit of friction against his thigh. The varying elements were enough to bring on a rather unexpected climax. Edith's head thrown back in pleasure, eyes shut, with his name on her swollen lips, mixed with the slow drag of his manhood against her still shuddering body was enough to leave Anthony disgraced in his boxers.

Anthony cried out both in disappointment and joy as his body betrayed him far too soon. The two fell motionless on the bed, Anthony moving to the side so that he wasn't crushing her, but leaving an arm draped just below her breast.

"I suppose that would be a relaxing way to pass the time." Edith mused breathlessly, lifting Anthony's arm for a moment so she could turn on her side and move a bit closer to him.

"I concur. Perhaps next time we could get a bit further."

"How do you mean?" She asked, her eyes glowing with mirth. Of course she knew what he meant, but the notion of hearing him whisper the words to her in that deep voice of his sent a shiver down her spine.

"I mean-," he leaned closer, pressing a kiss just below her ear, "next time I intend to taste you."

As he spoke a hand slid down across her waist and over the curve of her waist, discovering the top of her knickers. His fingers moved beneath the fabric, snaking through her curls, seeking out the moisture that had continued to grow. She gasped at his touch, her hands reaching for him, one landing on his shoulder and the other just above his hip.

"I'm rather keen to feel your-," he hesitated for a moment, either from a momentary bout of nerves or to maintain a bit of control, "beautiful legs over my shoulders."

His words alone would have been enough to bring her to completion again. In addition to her love of art, Edith had a great appreciation for a well-turned phrase. Though her lovers had been few, and to be frank few meant singular, she had discovered how exciting well-spoken words could be.

"More than anything though," Anthony continued, sensing how he was affecting her, "I'm looking forward to burying myself inside of you. Slowly thrusting into your—your tight heat. Would you like that, Edith?"

"YES!" Edith moaned, as he spoke one long digit slipped between her folds and demonstrated just what he was describing. It was more than enough. Had Anthony been a younger man the feel of her walls fluttering around his fingers would have been more than enough to bring him back to attention, as it was her pleasure took center stage. She fell limp against him, resting contentedly in his embrace.

"Have I convinced you of the merits of a trip to the countryside?"

"I suppose." She murmured.

Two hours and a quick stop at Edith's flat later, the pair found themselves speeding along the streets leading out of London in a charcoal grey, 1965 Austin Healey 3000. Edith could scarcely help the way her fingers trailed across the seats and the dashboard in front of her. A motion that wasn't lost on Anthony, who slowly pulled to the side of the road and engaged the break.

"What is it?" Edith asked, her first thought jumping to what they might get up to in the backseat. Her hand reached out and found his thigh, "bounced back?"

"I'll keep that in mind when we reach Locksley, but no, I thought you might like to drive?" He offered, opening his door and climbing out so that she could slide behind the wheel.

"Really?" She questioned as he rounded the car and took her now vacant seat.

"Really." He grinned at her stunned expression. "You do know how to drive, yes?"

"Of course, but—well, it's only fair to tell you that I have a bit of a lead foot. Father refused to let me drive anything other than a bicycle after I borrowed his Aston Martin."

"Was the car still in one piece at the end?"

"Of course, the car I was racing against not so much." She blushed, glancing away.

"Perhaps we can forego racing, but feel free to open her up a bit."

"If you insist."

As Edith swiftly maneuvered them back onto the road and her foot found the gas pedal, Anthony quickly realized that he might come to regret his words.


	5. The Delayed Grand Tour

Sorry for such a long delay, real life got terribly overwhelming lately and my dear stories got pushed to the back burner. Hopefully a bit less time between chapters now.

**x-X-x**

"What fun!" Edith giggled shifting into park outside of the large house before pushing her large, tortoise shell sunglasses back onto her head. Anthony's usually calm and collected façade utterly wrecked after the long drive through the country. Telling her that speed was no concern proved to be a great mistake as she zipped and swerved across the open roads. Her curls were blown back away from her face, bearing a resemblance to her appearance in bed that morning. Her cheeks were a lovely shade of red and the smile had yet to disappear from her lips.

"Where on God's green earth did you learn to drive like that?"

"Top Gear," she shrugged.

"I'll have to send a note of thanks to Jeremy," he quipped, leaning back into his seat.

"I've got a feeling you won't let me drive back to London."

"We'll see," with a sigh Anthony took her hand away from the ignition and pressed a kiss to her palm. Edith blushed, although the change of color was imperceptible because of her already flushed cheeks. His lips moved to her wrist, his fingers moving the cuff of her pale pink sweater to reveal a bit more skin for him to taste. A less than ladylike groan reached his ears as he took a small nip at her pulse point, glancing up he found that her eyes were tightly shut while her chest heaved.

"Your pulse is racing," he mused before his teeth began to gently worry the skin, a bit of suction added here and there for good measure.

"Is it? Can't begin to imagine why," was her breathless response.

"Sir Anthony, we've been expecting you—oh, my apologies, sir." The butler had been so certain when he began down the stairs of the front door, but suddenly felt as though he intruded on the moment between his employer and lady friend.

"Quite all right, Jacob," Anthony reassured the man, pressing one last kiss to Edith's wrist before letting go of her. "Shall we, my dear?"

Edith followed him to the front door, struck breathless as the first glimpse inside of the house. The entrance way was simple but beautiful; the pale blue patterned wallpaper was subtle, a large mirror hung to the right of the door while a painting was placed on the opposite wall. Catching sight of herself Edith couldn't quite believe what she saw. Her skin seemed to glow, eyes bright and lively, her curls messy but shining in the afternoon light.

"Come through here," his voice called from further down the hall.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, taking a long look around the main floor. The home was so different from his modern apartment in London, this space felt right. More than that Anthony looked quite at home among the pale blue walls that brought out the same shade in his eyes, in the cozy library/office he looked relaxed and approachable. The grey, three-piece suit he wore fit him just so, leaving Edith to fall to the great distraction that can be a man in a well-tailored suit.

"A bit out of order right now," Anthony mused, glancing down at the papers on his desk, "I forgot about the party this weekend."

"Party?"

"A gala for charity, my sister organizes it, a dreadful theme each year. Although I'm sure there might be a bit more fun to be had this time," Anthony smiled, watching as Edith began to wander along the bookshelves. As her head tilted back to look at the higher shelves her curls fell down her back. Her skirt was much shorter than the gown she wore last night, allowing her surprisingly long legs to be on display. He quickly found himself distracted by the straps of her low-healed shoes, truth be told he never gave much thought to the ankles of a woman and yet he was suddenly fascinated with Edith's.

"Anthony?"

"Hmm?" he finally looked back up at her.

"The theme?"

"The Roaring Twenties. Allison does tend to get over ambitious."

"I don't know this looks like the perfect spot for a bit of Gatsby frivolity. Does your sister have a penchant for art theft as well?" Edith asked innocently, peering out the window at a crew of workers erecting a white tent.

"I don't know where you came up with this notion of art theft, but no, Allison focuses on the theft of wealthy donors for the sake of her many foundations."

"Allison and Anthony?"

"My parents had a fondness for the letter A," he chuckled, rounding the desk to close in on her.

"Mine have a fondness for my siblings," Edith laughed offhandedly.

"I don't know, I'm feeling quite fond for the middle Crawley daughter," Anthony murmured, taking her by the hand and leading her to the sofa.

"Is that so?" She questioned coyly, letting him guide her to one end before settling in close.

"Oh yes, my dear," he pulled her legs over his lap before resting his arm behind her. The fingers of his free hand began to trace along the curve of her knee, "Quite fond indeed."

"Nothing to do with me catching on to your game?"

"Haven't the faintest what you mean. How would you like the grand tour?" Edith bit her bottom lip, tilting her head in thought. "We'll start with the sofa."

Her giggle was music to his ears as he swooped in for a kiss. Edith leaned back against the armrest, bringing Anthony along with her so they wouldn't have to break their embrace. His fingers began to migrate from her knee to the hem of her skirt, brushing across the smooth nylon. They were still getting quite familiar when the door swung open with a bang, jolting them apart.

"Sorry, big brother. I didn't realize you were entertaining in here," a stunning blonde greeted Anthony. Edith would've felt threatened had she not greeted him in the familial way. Allison Strallan stood nearly as tall as her brother, with an athletic frame, appearing twice as athletic given that she was in a tennis skirt and sweater. Her straight blonde hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, while the same pale blue eyes took in the scene in front of her. While Anthony was already in his early fifties and looked his age for the most part, Allison still looked like she was in her thirties, despite only being a few years behind her brother.

"Allison, I see you still haven't bothered to let a closed door stop you."

"Never, now introduce me to your young lady."

"Really, Allie," Anthony groaned, helping to ease Edith from his lap so that they could stand. "Edith Crawely, Allison Strallan."

"Why am I only meeting you now?" Allie demanded.

"Oh, well—" Edith hesitated.

"We only recently met."

"Where on earth did my dull brother find a bright young thing like you?"

"The museum, a shared love of Van Gogh."

"You and that bloody painting. And how was Richard?"

"Same," Anthony answered warningly.

"Tony is still quite annoyed that I was in love with Richard Carlisle."

"Tony?" Edith giggled as Anthony tried to ignore the way the nickname seemed to roll so effortlessly off her tongue.

"This afternoon has taken a dreadful turn," Anthony muttered, "and I was never bothered by you being in love with him, it's what the pair of you did in the backseat of my car that left me rather cross."

"Honestly, like you never stole father's car for a date. Answer my question properly please, how is Richard."

"Normally I would tell you that he looks miserable without you and that he is aging poorly. I don't think that would be appropriate given that Edith's sister is married to him."

"No need on my account," Edith insisted, "Richard has always been terribly decent to me, despite my sister's some what horrible nature."

"Sounds like Dick," Allie nodded, "well, I've got to shower and get ready. I'll expect both of you, fully clothed for dinner."

"No promises," Anthony whispered to Edith as Allie bounced out of the room.

"She's fantastic."

"She is rather," he nodded in agreement, pushing the door closed and turning the lock this time. "Now, I believe we left off at the sofa."

"Perhaps later," Edith decided, reaching for the lock. "The proper tour, please."

"Very well, we can start here, work our way up to the gallery."

She froze, still holding his hand and forcing him to stop as well.

"Gallery?"

"Art lovers."


	6. The Extended Tour

"Anthony!" Edith gasped as she slowly circled the top floor of Locksley, thoroughly unaware that her host was circling her. The room resembled an actual gallery more than a house. The hardwood floors echoed with each step of her high heels. The walls were painted a light cream color to keep from detracting from the works of art.

"It was once the family portrait gallery, many years ago," he explained, pleased to see the way her eyes lit up as she took in each painting hanging perfectly between each window. The space was completely open save for a few comfortable chairs that were dispersed throughout the large room. It seemed a fantastic place to curl up with a book or simply find a painting to sit and contemplate for a few hours.

"It's beautiful," she managed breathlessly.

"I thought you might appreciate—" he quickly found himself cut off as Edith's left hand curled around his neck, pulling him into a hard kiss. "My art collection rarely provokes that response."

He pulled her back into the embrace, his hands returning to where they had left off under her skirt. Although just before he reached the top of her tights her hands landed on top of his, halting their progress.

"In front of the paintings?" Edith whispered.

"I don't think they'll mind," he chuckled walking her backwards until she tumbled softly into one of the white chairs.

"There isn't time," she insisted as his warm fingers glided along from her knees to her thighs. It took Edith a full moment to realize why he had knelt down on the floor, between her legs. "Oh."

"Oh," Anthony nodded with a boyish grin. "Yes?"

"Yes! I mean, well, yes if you don't mind," she stumbled across the words rather dumbstruck. With a laugh Anthony leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of her left knee, then the right, then alternating back and forth as he moved further up her thighs. Edith squirmed slightly in her seat, trying to keep her hips still. "You—you are terribly keen, aren't you?"

"I've had little else on my mind for the last several days. Since we met at the museum I haven't been able to focus on anything beyond the thought of what we might do together—what I would like to do to you."

"Now really, Anthony!" Edith couldn't help the squeak of disbelief that escaped her.

"Really, Edith. I don't know why you find it so impossible to believe that a man could be as besotted with you as I find myself being."

"Because more often than not it is impossible, up until this very point in time it was a completely ridiculous notion."

"I will continue to convince you just how beautiful and desirable I find you until you finally believe. Perhaps a bit after that too, just for good measure."

With that Edith felt his right index finger trail across the rather damp center of her knickers, causing her to hiss in surprise. He repeated the action a few more times before finally making the effort to pull the offending garment out of the way completely and shifting her legs over his shoulders.

"Anthony!"

"Convinced yet?" he questioned, shifting from teasing strokes to ones with a more specific intent. Her fingers slipped into his hair while her free hand clutched at the arm of the chair.

"Closer! Getting closer—" she mewed. It was a bit difficult to hear her, but the odd moan that filtered through was music to Anthony's ears. He swelled with pride as the way she bucked against his mouth. With one final, long arch she fell back still, letting loose her grip on his now messy blonde hair. He pressed one last parting kiss to the top of her knee before moving off his knees to sit on the floor.

"Beautiful," he gasped softly with the same reverence she offered his paintings. She looked quite similar to climbing out of the convertible; cheeks red with her curls shifted loose from any sort of order. Edith just laughed, propelling herself forward and landing on Anthony with enough momentum to knock him to the floor. "Bowled me over once again, Miss Crawley. What a wonderful habit to make."

"I could certainly see the upside to such a habit," she whispered before finding his lips with her own. As they embraced Edith's hand slipped down between them, taking him firmly in her grasp.

"EDITH!"

"Yes, Sir Anthony?" she asked innocently, beginning to work him at a slow pace.

"Uh—" he couldn't quite find the words he was looking for, her slender fingers distracting him to the point of only managing to make vague sounds.

"Maybe this would be a good time to ask you about that Monet at the end of the hall?" she wondered aloud.

"Not—not a bad plan, love. But—ah—don't know what you'll get out of me," he admitted, thrusting up into her hand.

"Is it stolen?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Anthony," she gave him a doubtful look while gripping him a bit tighter. With a deep groan his head fell back against the floor while struggling to catch his breath.

"I bought it under the impression that it was simply a duplicate. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be the real thing."

Edith fell still, contemplating Anthony's words before ultimately continuing, finally allowing for him to finish with a loud guttural moan.

"Devious woman."

"Dreadful liar."

"We should get cleaned up before dinner."

"Let's just stay here for a few more minutes," Edith suggested, her eyes drifting to the few paintings hanging near where they had collapsed.

An hour later they were downstairs, freshly showered and changed, seated at the dining table with Allison.

"What did you two get up to this afternoon?"

"Oh, we spent most of the time in the gallery," Edith answered with a smile, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks.

"Tony's pride and joy," the blonde laughed. "I'm barely allowed in there."

"As soon as you realize that you look with your eyes and not your hands, then you will be more than welcomed," Anthony explained easily with a sip of wine. A sip he nearly choked on as he felt a gentle nudge against the calf of his right leg. The stocking clad toes slipped from his ankle, tracing all the way to his inner thigh.

"Tony?" Allison said again, her brother finally looking up at her. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, Allison, what did you say?"

"You're starting to get a bit dodgy. I said, Edith's sister Mary some how ended up on the guest list for tomorrow and I was wondering if Richard might come along."

"I don't know, love. He usually doesn't go to many parties with Mary."

"Why not? He loves parties."

"They can be quite strenuous with Mary," Edith explained completely casual, as though she weren't cruelly teasing Anthony beneath the table. As she reached beyond his thigh Anthony was forced to fake a cough to cover the gasp of surprise. "Although he very well may attend if you invited him. Richard can be terribly sentimental that way."

Allison nodded, trying to hide her excitement, much to her brother's dismay. Richard had broken her heart once a month for five years before he went on to marry Mary. His sister was always ready to commit to the man, but he put her off as much as possible until she finally couldn't take it anymore and told him to commit or get lost. He opted for the latter.

"Allie, please be careful," Anthony implored his little sister.

"Aren't I always? All right, I'm off. There's a group of friends meeting at the pub in the village tonight and goodness knows I don't' want to hear what you two plan on getting up to."

In a whirl of blonde hair and black silk Allison was gone and they were left alone again.

"You look downright grumpy," Edith mused, shifting her foot around again.

"I'll take you over my knee for that, Lady Edith."

"You'll have to catch me first."

What else could Anthony do but give chase?


	7. The Dessert

Locksley was usually quiet at night, even when Allison was visiting the halls would be still and silent. Tonight was quite different and the change was felt in every room, the air seemed charged with excitement as laughter rang out from the master bedroom. The staff mostly smiled or shook their heads, pleased to see their perpetually lonely employer with company.

Dessert was enjoyed in front of the fireplace of the master bedroom. The pair ended up in the grand space after their playful chase led Edith to attempt hiding behind one of the heavy, blue velvet curtains in Anthony's room. She received a teasing swat on the bottom before he saw to the relocation of their chocolate soufflés that both agreed should not go to waste.

So they settled onto a mountain of pillows collected from around the room and positioned in front of the intricately carved hearth. Edith stretched out like a content cat, happily pulling off her high heels and relishing the warmth of the fire near her feet. Anthony meanwhile retrieved the tray was left for them on the coffee table in the sitting area, the bottle of red wine and two individual soufflés were slowly being devoured.

"This is delicious," Edith moaned after a very ladylike bite.

"Yes," Anthony agreed without trying his, opting instead to simply watch as the spoon disappeared between her lovely, pink lips.

"What?" she flushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, just pondering my sudden jealousy of a utensil."

"Oh honestly—"

"Stop. You are not going to fight me every time I compliment you."

Edith shrugged and took another bite, slowly turning the spoon so that she could remove the excess chocolate. She knew exactly what she was doing as the delighted moan escaped her lips.

"Sinfully good, you should eat yours before it goes cold," she offered coyly.

"Uh—yes, of course."

They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally pausing to exchange smiles. It all felt very domestic, which would have jarred Anthony were he paying close attention to the warmth that seemed to spring up in his chest each time Edith looked at him. For a long time they stayed there in front of the fire, simply enjoying the warmth and quiet of the home. The countryside was a nice change of pace from city life, hardly any noise echoed in from the outside. It was properly dark, missing the strange haze of light that streetlamps and skyscrapers provide in the urban setting.

"What did you want to be when you were growing up?" Edith asked suddenly, glancing up from where she rested against Anthony's chest.

"Hmm? Oh, I had it in my mind to be doctor."

"Really? I can't quite picture that profession on you. Trying to play doctor, yes," he laughed at that, curling his arm around her a bit tighter, "Why didn't you pursue it?"

"Towards the end of my first year at University my father became ill. I suddenly found myself being groomed to take care of the family endeavors and switched to economics and business," he shrugged half-heartedly.

"Goodness, you sound like I did when father tried to bring me into the Grantham Group."

"You had no interest in the family business either?"

"None what so ever. I have enough trouble attending a dinner with my family, to be in a profession that would have required board meetings and what not with Mary day in, day out would have been torture. No, I quite prefer where I've ended up."

"You've always been an artist?"

"I suppose I have, yes. Where did your love of art come from?"

"My mother. She would often take us children to the museums, especially when we went along with father on his work trips. We would have to visit at least three different local museums. She rarely had the opportunity to travel growing up and wanted to make sure that her children experienced the history of each city and country."

"She sounds lovely."

"She was, she truly was. Father adored her, always tried to acquire interesting pieces for her collection, I suppose it rubbed off on me. The appreciation and the desire for meaningful acquisitions. Did you travel much growing up?"

"Not too much, Mary always went along on father's trips and Sybil had her special ventures with mother. I'm afraid I was lost in the fray quite frequently. Occasionally I was sent to my mother's mother in New York. That was always great fun, I suppose I'm more like grandma Martha than anyone else."

"Where would you like to go?"

"I'd love to see France, Germany would be interesting, Italy, India, Switzerland—" she fell silent when she realized that Anthony was staring rather blankly at her. "What?"

"You've never been to Paris?"

"I'm afraid not."

"We'll see to that first then."

It sounded utterly ridiculous to Edith. She had barely known this man for a week and already he was talking about jet setting off to France? This sort of thing did not happen to plain girls like her. They happened to sweet, soft-spoken young ladies like Sybil or Anna. Dashing men did not spend time let alone money trying to woo her, save for a pint at the pub and maybe a trip to the local chippy. Now here sat this gorgeous man making plans for them to run off together, to see the world. It was terribly tempting, but his questionable activities gave her reason for pause. Traveling the world together would be a wonderful, passionate affair, but how much would she enjoy it if half the time was spent worrying that an ambitious detective was waiting around the corner because of a missing painting?

"You've gotten lost in your thoughts," he observed, breaking her reverie.

"Yes," was her simple answer.

"Perhaps we should turn in for the night?"

Edith simply nodded, pulling herself to her feet before taking the bag that had been brought to his room and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving a rather confused Anthony in her wake.

The last few days had been quite the change of pace for the gentleman. It was rare that he saw the same woman past a dinner or an evening out. Often times women would see what, if anything, they could get from him, see if they could tolerate a relationship long enough to bleed him dry. Some had tried but Anthony was always quick to stop those situations before they got too far out of hand. Edith was different. She didn't ask for anything, there was no angle being worked. Although her mood had changed drastically at the suggestion of travelling.

"Edith," he called, quickly standing up and moving to knock on the bathroom door.

"Yes?"

"May I come in?"

"Uh—yes—" she finally answered, a bit surprised by the request. She had already changed into a peach cami and short set. The clip holding her hair up allowed him a completely view of her neck and shoulders. It took him a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to speak, but he was distracted by the fact that she had already taken her makeup off but it only served to highlight how truly beautiful she was.

"Did I upset you?" he managed at last.

"When?"

"When I mentioned travelling. You seemed upset by the suggestion."

"I wasn't upset—" Edith paused for a moment, turning back to the mirror as she pulled the clip from her hair and reached for the brush she had set out next to the sink. Anthony balanced himself carefully on the edge of the large, tiled tub that sat in the middle of the room. It was a luxurious bathroom, one that reminded Edith of something she would see in an interior design magazine. The walk-in shower was sizable and tucked back into the corner with a large window that had been treated to keep peering eyes from seeing in. The double sink provided more space than Anthony needed by himself; clearly the bathroom had been made with a couple in mind.

"You weren't happy."

"We tease and tiptoe around the topic, but honestly my first thought was what I would do if we were traveling together and someone arrested you for being such a dedicated art lover," she admitted quietly, not looking away from the mirror as she smoothed moisturizer over the contours of her face.

"Edith, there are two things that I am not; cocky or stupid."

"A painting was stolen out of a museum filled with people, many of whom are rich, influential, and equipped with ridiculous security."

"I realize we've only known each other for a few days, but can you trust that I would never do anything that would put you in harms way?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. This was insane, why did she have so much faith in a near perfect stranger?

"Then please trust me," he requested simply, taking her hand and pulling her to stand in front of him.

"I'll try," Edith answered. She would try, but she couldn't make any promises just yet.


	8. The Drive

Her brother's young lady, for good reason, intrigued Allison. As she drove back to Locksley she mused over the surprise of finding her sibling so gleefully entangled with the second Crawley daughter. It had been literal years since Anthony brought anyone around. There had been thoroughly unmemorable women throughout the years, pretty girls who didn't have a single brain between them. Never had there been anything special about these women who appeared at a party or dinner and then were never heard from again. Which made Edith so utterly fascinating to Allison Strallan.

Anthony didn't really trust anyone beyond a small handful, which included herself and their family friend, Stewart. The list ended at two, especially after the dreadful affair with Maude. The horrible woman had ensnared Anthony when he was young and new to managing the family business. Their affair burned fast and bright then ended in a rather messy explosion. There was to be a marriage, Anthony had proposed and was ready to share a life with the harpy. She of course pitched a fit as soon as Stewart insisted on a prenup, and then disappeared in the middle of the night when it became clear that Anthony would not marry without one. Of course when she ran she took priceless (and therefore very valuable) items with her; first editions from the library, pieces of silver, the canary diamond necklace that had belonged to their mother and was meant as an engagement present. Luckily Allison had enough sense to get their mother's ring back into the safe before Maude's departure.

Allie felt no hesitation at the thought of young Edith wearing their mother's platinum and diamond bands. She certainly had no use for them, briefly she wore the ring Richard offered but that had long since been returned to him as soon as their engagement was broken.

The Strallan children had been far too familiar with heartbreak. Her own relationship with Richard had been a rather rocky road to travel. But there was no doubt that the couple loved each other, they had since the first day they had met. Richard was brash and cocky, terribly handsome and confident. He had made quick work of closing the distance between them on campus and proposing an outing to young Allie who was only a freshman at the time, while he was a rather impressive junior. They were damn near inseparable after that, every weekend was spent together, most days when they had classes he would appear at her dorm room to walk her where ever she was headed. After he graduated they began living together in secret, Richard was on a reduced allowance from his wealthy but wholly disappointed father. Allie kept up the charade that she was still living on campus, a lie that was beautifully executed with the help of her friends.

They were headed for marriage, that much was clear. When William Strallan found out that his daughter was "shacking up" as it were with the disgraced son of a wealthy newspaperman he was far from pleased. However Anthony was quick to step in and defend his sister, reminding his father that Richard was a respectable young man whom he generally liked on all previous meetings. It was clear to anyone who spent more than a few minutes with the couple couldn't hope to deny the perfect match they made. The rough edges were smoothed out when they were together. Richard's sarcastic and sometimes nasty nature was tamed by Allison's sweetness, while she was far more calm and focused when he was around.

He had proposed. The engagement lasted four months, up until Allison found out that she was pregnant. The news was terrifying but exciting they would be married in a month and a half, so no one would be the wiser.

Allison pulled her black, vintage E-Type Jaguar over to the side of the road and killed the ignition. This was the wrong line of thought for her drive home. It had been many years and yet the thought of their breakup still haunted her, the pain felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

She woke up that morning with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something didn't feel right but she ignored it, going about her day as normal. It was while she was walking through the market that the cramping became unbearable; glancing down she realized that beneath her pretty yellow dress there was a trail of blood trickling down her legs. The rest of the day was a blur; she fainted and woke up in the hospital. Anthony was sitting next to her bed, their parents visible through the window facing the hallway, and Richard was nowhere in sight.

"Tony?" she managed weakly, clutching her brother's hand.

"Allie, are you—I should let them know you're awake—"

"Tony, what happened? The baby?"

Her brother glanced down sadly, squeezing her fingers.

"Where's Richard?"

"Father had him barred from the hospital."

"What?" Allison all but screamed, immediately regretting the choice as she eased back down into the sheets.

"Lost his temper when we found out that you were— I'm sorry, Allie."

"Does Richard know?"

"I'm not sure what he was told before they threw him out."

"Please, Tony will you please go find him. Let him know what happened. I want him here. I need him."

Anthony nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll take care of it, just get some rest."

The next time she woke Richard was there, Anthony was outside of the door trying to calm their parents. Everything went downhill after that day. The fighting intensified, it was more than the young couple could handle and soon there were long, drunken nights that Richard spent away from their flat. He would return in the morning, smelling of cheap perfume and whiskey. Allison refused to put up with such behavior; she had no intention of turning a blind eye to infidelity and refused to marry him as long as it was going on. During one of his binge nights she packed her bags, called Anthony, and left her keys and engagement ring sitting on the dining table.

With a shaky breath Allison wiped the tears from her eyes and started the car again. She had lived a fantastic life, she really had. There had been exciting travels and passionate love affairs, jet-setting with celebrities and socialites, everything a person might hope for. But she knew, deep down that it would always pale in comparison to the sort of life they might've had together if everything hadn't gone so very wrong. He would always be the love of her life and would have to live with the knowledge that he was still out there, married to someone else.

There had been other proposals from many men. However she could never bring herself to say 'yes' to any of them.

Allison quietly made her way into the house, closing the door behind her and pausing in the entryway for a moment. Bed sounded like a lovely prospect but the growl from her stomach forced her in another direction. Three steps down to the kitchen she suddenly realized that the lights were on and someone was moving around inside.

"Insomnia strikes again, Tony?" she asked, pausing the moment she realized her error, "sorry, Edith. I thought—"

"That's all right," Edith smiled, unconsciously pulling at the shirt of Anthony's she had pulled on over her pajamas before venturing downstairs. "He is still awake if you were looking for him. Thought a bit of tea and a snack might help."

"I could certainly do with a bite of something. I'm ready for tomorrow night to be over already."

"Scone?" Edith offered, holding out the small plate she had assembled of Daisy's fresh scones, Locksley jam, and clotted cream.

"Excellent, when Daisy asks we'll blame Tony," Allie laughed fixing one for herself before seeing to her own cup of tea since the water was already boiling.

"Oh goodness, should I have left them? Anthony didn't say anything—"

"It's fine, Daisy knows by now that the moment he arrives home there's no point in trying to hide sweets. My brother will track them down and steal them away."

"A talent of his," Edith mused to herself, checking the cupboards for a teapot.

"Indeed. So, Miss Edith Crawley, what exactly are your intentions with my big brother?"

Edith stood still for a moment, her mouth opening and closing several times as she nervously tugged on the hem of Anthony's shirt again.

"I don't quite know yet. To be perfectly honest I don't really know how I ended up here. A few days ago I was holed up in my studio working and suddenly I'm in a ball gown being whisked around the city by your brother."

"He is very charming in formal wear," Allison nodded, recalling how many women had fawned over him in past years.

"Yes, very," Edith blushed. "He's wonderful and is terribly fond of me for reasons I can't quite fathom."

"You're special. Even I can see that. Have you slept together yet?"

"Oh—uh—well— Technically no. We've slept in the same bed, but-"

"You are very special. I think it's lovely," Allie paused, "you don't?"

"No, I do. I really, I've never met anyone like him and I've never felt quite so, goodness I can't even begin to describe it. I'm just very used to the rug being pulled out from under me."

"Aren't we all," the blonde nodded knowingly. "I speak from experience when I say don't over think this, just enjoy that feeling."

"Thank you. I should probably get this upstairs before Anthony comes looking for me."

"Too late, love," the man in question announced appearing at the bottom of the stairs in his blue pajamas and slippers. "I thought you might've gotten lost."

"Would be quite easy to," she laughed letting him take the tray from her hands.

"You grew up in Downton, Locksley must be a cottage in comparison," Allison pointed out.

"I would take Locksley over Downton any day."

"Really?" Anthony grinned.

"Yes, really. It feels much more like a home. Downton always felt like growing up in a museum."

Allison shook her head at the silly grin that appeared on her brother's face as Edith expressed her preference for their family home over her own.

"Nice night out, Allie?"

"Marvelous, met up with some old friends. But I am ready for bed."

The three walked back upstairs together, Allie quietly trailing behind so she could observe her brother and his… what? Girlfriend? The smile never seemed to leave his face, even as they discussed the gala tomorrow night and Edith's need for a proper dress. They said their goodnights as they pair tucked away into the master suite again while Allie continued her way down the hall to her own rooms. There was something different in the house, and she found that she rather liked it.


	9. The Dressing Hour

The next morning found Allie hurrying into the dining room, surprised to find Anthony and Edith already up and dressed, enjoying soft-boiled eggs, tea, and toast. The scene was adorably domestic, one that Allie was certain her brother had already grown used to. It was the day of the gala, which meant crews would be arriving shortly to set up and prep for the event. Allie nodded her thanks as her breakfast was set in front of her and began eating quickly.

"Edith, I sent a note to my stylist last night, they'll be bringing a few dress choices for you this afternoon," Allison finally spoke after drinking a full cup of tea.

"Have you already selected yours?"

"I've narrowed it down to two, perhaps you'll lend some input. Tony usually just says 'that's the one' to each gown I show him."

"Evening gown selection is not a talent I possess or desire to possess," Anthony chuckled.

"I don't know about that, you selected a rather stunning one for me just this week," Edith reminded him with a grin.

"My brother picked out a dress for you? Anthony could barely dress himself until recently."

"He's learned rather quickly then."

"The old boy is full of surprises lately," his little sister smirked. "By the way, your suit, Sir Anthony, has been laid out for you. I expect you to be quite sociable tonight, not just with the good Lady Edith."

"Anything else, Allison?" Anthony questioned with a bemused smile. His sister was an odd creature; she had equal parts of their parents while he was predominantly his father's son. Allison could always manage to charm the leaves off the trees, just like their mother, but within the next breath she could shut down any mouthy executive who decided propositioning her at a charity gala would be a good idea. It was difficult for the pair to fathom the kind of relationship Edith seemed to have with her siblings, the Strallan children had almost always offered a united front. They were friends in addition to being brother and sister; the famed hostility that existed between the Crawley sisters was utterly unimaginable.

"No, that's all. I'll be stealing Edith for the rest of the day, try and keep your sulking to a minimum," Allison informed them, standing and holding out her hand to Edith. "Come along, come-come."

Edith's eyes flickered towards Anthony for a moment.

"No use in fighting it, love."

"I'm not going to bite, just a bit of female bonding."

Hours later Edith wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't some sort of torture. She was tired of trying on dresses. The selection Allison's stylist Anna provided was beautiful, each mimicking the style of the 1920s with ease and class. However, by the third gown Edith was beginning to feel like a doll for Allie to play dress-up with. The fourth gown had to be it, for the sake of Edith's sanity. Granted it was worlds different than this situation would be with her mother and sisters.

Edith never had the same style as her family, gravitating more towards a simple and classic style rather than flashy. Any outfit she ever had the nerve to try on during shopping outings was mocked and belittled until the dressing room was her only chance of retreat. After a while she stopped accepting invitations to those girls days. Allie had been positive every time Edith appeared in a new dress, offering compliments with a sincerity that seemed terribly rare.

Stepping out from behind the changing screen Edith couldn't help but gasp at the sight of Allison. The tall blonde had finally decided on her own attire; a flowing gown of gold silk, sleeveless and fitted at the waist. The cleavage was surprisingly modest, but the back was completely exposed and utterly perfect.

"Just the sort of reaction I was going for. Anna this will be the one for me."

"Excellent, Allison. Thomas will be here shortly to begin on hair and makeup. Miss Crawley, I don't think that's the one," Anna shook her head, taking a closer look at Edith.

"It's beautiful, but a bit—" Allison paused, trying to think of the right word, "bridal?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Anna nodded in agreement. Edith moved to the full-length mirror, surprised at her appearance. The satin gown had a light pink sheen to it, the fabric felt smooth and cool against her skin. The straps were thick, decorated with beading, which matched the detail beneath the bust. There was a fairly long train to the dress, flowing to the ground and a few inches behind her. The only thing missing was a veil.

"On to number five," Edith was instructed, being guided back behind the screen and rather efficiently undressed by Anna before being helped into the next option. "I believe was have a winner."

The peach pink tulle complimented Edith's complexion beautifully. The skirt reached the floor, dragging slightly given the fact that Edith was in her bare feet. In lieu of straps the same gauzy material of the skirt was used to form cap sleeves and collar, the coverage ended there, leaving a deep plunge of cleavage open to view as well as the column of back. The dress was heavily beaded with silver discs and stones, it looked as if stars had been plucked from the sky and sewn to the fabric. The dress fit Edith like a glove and she could hardly contain her glee once faced with herself in the mirror once more.

"Absolute winner," Allison nodded, "how are you in heels, dear?"

"Rubbish."

"Marvelous, it will give Anthony an excuse to remain by your side all evening long."

The shoes were far too high for Edith's comfort; the light pink suede was covered with crystals of the same shade. They put her at the perfect height for the gown to fall just so and would make it easier for Anthony to lean down and whisper in her ear during the party.

"Fantastic, aren't you glad you came along with me today?" Allison smiled, touching up her lipstick.

While Edith's perfect day would never include trying on clothes and doing makeup, it was actually quite fun. In another world, one where she and Mary were on better terms, Edith could easily imagine that this might be what it felt like to be close to one's sister. With a brief sad smile, Edith pulled Allison into a hug.

"I'm very glad, it was a lovely day."

"Yes, well, run along now," Allison nodded keeping a firm control on her expression. "I'm sure Anthony is climbing the walls to see you."

"I really won't be running," Edith called over her shoulder as she slowly tried to keep balance on her heels. They really should've done this down on the first floor. She took one step at a time, carefully making her way to Anthony's study. With the buzz of pre-party activity in the house it would be the only place where he would be left alone. Allison ran a tight ship when it came to parties. It was nothing like the chaos of Downton. Rather every well-oiled cog of the machine worked together, making it possible for her to simply set things in motion.

The same mirror that had greeted Edith upon her arrival yesterday met her once more in the hallway. Once again her reflection had changed. Her hair was perfectly curled and coifed, her makeup a bit on the dramatic side but she found it was quite fetching. Something more still, there was a glow to her skin, as though the secret delight she had felt since meeting Anthony was lighting her from the inside out.

"Good lord," came Anthony's muted voice from down the hall. He had emerged from his study, tired of waiting for her to appear.

"You'll have to come to me I'm afraid. Your sister put me in these," Edith explained, pulling her skirt up just enough to reveal the heels.

"I'm more than happy to make the journey," he laughed. "You look devastatingly gorgeous."

"Thank you," she blushed.

"Thank you for not fighting the compliment."

"You look quite handsome yourself," Edith replied, taking in the sight of him. The tuxedo he wore had the cut of one from the 1920s; he looked rather like a Hollywood leading man in it, an Errol Flynn or Clark Gable. It was a notable difference from what he wore to Sybil's engagement party.

"I endeavor for my lady."

"Greatly appreciated."

"I would appreciate if you two could keep the cutesy banter at bay for the sake of our guests keeping the appetizers down," Allison implored as she finished an unacknowledged grand entrance.

"You look beautiful, Allison."

"I know," she laughed heartily. "Not bad yourself, brother of mine. Now, are we all ready for forced conversations and charming for charitable purposes?"

"Aye, Robin Hood," Anthony managed a mock salute.

"Anthony, I know your Edith is quite lovely but I still need you to be attentive to the wealthy widows."

"I make no promises."

"I'll make sure he does," Edith reassured Allison.

"Marvelous. Well then; ready, set, Gatsby."


	10. The Gala

The grounds of Locksley appeared to glow in the light of dusk. The large white tent was lit softly with candles and hanging lanterns, tall tables that could fit three or four people standing were positioned throughout while larger tables for eating had been set up on the back patio near the buffet. A number of bars were positioned strategically throughout, as well as waiters in full costume making the rounds with trays full of champagne filled coupes. It felt like they had fallen into the pages of a Fitzgerald novel. Even a live jazz band had begun to play, filling the air with sounds of the long forgotten decade.

"Incredible, Allison," Edith mused, taking in their surroundings.

"I did do rather splendidly, didn't I?"

"You're hardly surprised any more," Anthony laughed, pressing a kiss to his sister's temple. She seemed to bask in her brother's praise before shaking it off.

"There are guests to greet. Anthony, I expect you to do your duty this evening."

"Charm elderly widows, yes, I know."

"It's for a good cause and Edith can serve as a buffer."

"Very well."

"You kids have fun," Allison beamed before hurrying off to personally say hello to every person that had arrived.

"This is a common role for you?" Edith asked with a grin once they were alone.

"I'm afraid so. I seem to have a way with women of a certain age."

"The way I hear it you have a way with women of any age."

"Vicious lies, I assure you."

Wordlessly he plucked two coupes from a passing tray and held one out for Edith to take.

"Trying to ply me with champagne again?"

"I suspect we'll both need it," he managed before they were interrupted by an older woman dressed in a woefully oversized flapper dress.

"Anthony, my darling young man, where have you been hiding?" she demanded, leaving a large smear of red lipstick on his cheek.

"Business in London has been keeping me quite occupied. Lady Bloom, have you met Lady Edith Crawley?"

"Many moons ago, why? Is she here this evening?" It was probably difficult for the woman to see through the glasses that had the thickness of old soda bottles.

"Uh— yes—" Anthony gestured awkwardly.

"Pleasure to see you again, Lady Bloom," Edith offered with a smile. The older woman slowly looked the red head up and down, her expression a combination of confusion and surprise.

"You're little Edith Crawley? Last time I saw you you were a gawky little thing lurking around your father's library."

"Surely it hasn't been that long?" Anthony questioned.

"Last year I believe. Well, you've blossomed rather beautifully. I take it you'll be monopolizing Sir Anthony's attentions this evening?"

"Well—"

"Of course. A wise choice on both of your parts. Everyone reaches that certain age. Personally I took husbands at both of your ages," she laughed, draining her glass of champagne before looking around for another. Blindly she plucked Anthony's from his hand and began to drink, "Thank you, young man. Edith these waiters are so terribly attentive this year. I wonder if Allison would let me take one home with me."

"She—"

"Well, I will leave you young people to it. Perhaps I'll see if I might find husband number 7 this evening. Lucky number 7."

With another red kiss to Anthony's cheek the Lady Bloom was gone in a cloud of Chanel perfume and wayward feathers. Edith could barely contain her laughter, doubling over and spilling a bit of her own drink as giddiness coursed through her body.

"Sweet woman, but her vision seems to diminish further each year," Anthony groaned.

"Come here, my darling. You'll be called into question, covered with lipstick that doesn't belong to your evening companion."

"Evening companion? You make it sound like I've hired you for the night."

"What would you prefer?" She smiled, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and trying to move some of the red stains from his face.

"Lucky 7?" He countered, causing both of them to devolve into peals of laughter again.

"Edith? What on earth are you doing to, Sir Anthony?"

The sound of her father's voice quickly put a damper on the frivolity of the moment. She turned to find not just her parents but also Mary and Richard standing behind her, waiting for an answer.

"The Widow Bloom," Anthony explained simply. Richard and Robert both nodded knowingly, looking around the area to see if she was still lurking about.

"I didn't know you would be attending this evening, Edith," Cora marveled, taking in her daughter's appearance and the way Sir Anthony reached out for her daughter's hand. "Or that you and Sir Anthony were so closely acquainted…"

"Really, Cora?" Richard interrupted, "Anthony and Edith go back quite a ways. To the Wheat Fields, if I'm not mistaken?"

"I heard about the misfortune, Richard. Rotten luck," Anthony nodded sympathetically.

"I'm rather surprised you didn't catch it as quickly as _young_ Edith did. Eyes not what they once were?"

"Working perfectly well, if you'll excuse me," with a quick nod Anthony pulled Edith away from the small group. They managed three steps away before the cloud of perfume hit Edith, she began to look back but Anthony stopped her with a grin. "No dear, never look back."

In her life, Edith had never had such a painless interaction with her family. Mary hadn't said a word; she was struck silent at the sight of her little sister in such a gown. The eldest daughter had selected something far less appropriate. It would seem that she didn't realize there was supposed to be some sort of slip worn beneath the dark tulle material, which was intricately embroidered with sequins in the pattern of scales. In the right light it was easy to see that Mary wore nothing at all beneath her dress, much to her husband's embarrassment.

"That was a dirty trick, Strallan," Richard boomed, trying to remove lipstick from his face.

"Perhaps you should have your hearing checked? You didn't hear her coming?" Anthony suggested with a smirk.

"Hilarious. I— I don't suppose Allie is—"

The mirth left Anthony's expression.

"Is that a wise idea?"

"It would be rude not to say hello to the host."

"I can pass your regards along."

"Anthony-"

"Your wife is here, practically sans a dress, I really do not think it a wise idea."

"I suppose you're right. Would you just tell her- tell her what a marvelous party she put together. I'll be in the study enjoying some of your Scotch."

Anthony simply nodded.

"Edith, dear. You look stunning yet again," Richard smiled at his sister-in-law who was silently watched the conversation play out in front of her.

"Thank you," she nodded sadly. It seemed a shame that Mary should have Richard when it was clear that he and Allison clearly still wanted each other on some level.

The night flitted by in glasses of champagne and dances; Edith was coaxed into doing her part for Allison's charity, dancing with the occasional widower. She had managed to fly under her family's radar for nearly two hours before she found herself cornered by mother and sister.

"Anthony Strallan, of all people, Edith?" Mary demanded.

"Yes, of all people, Mary."

"Leave her be, I'm just glad she's dating someone."

"She is standing right here and thank you, mother," Edith managed in a clipped tone, looking eagerly for rescue.

"My darling girl, there you are!" came Allison's voice from behind. "Tony has been looking for you, rightly so. I wouldn't let you out of my sight looking so stunning either. Don't you agree?"

"Oh— well of course," Cora managed to smile.

"It's a rather _busy_ gown if you ask me," Mary shrugged, sipping from her glass and looking around the lawn.

"We didn't," Allison smiled sweetly, "and I might point out that traditionally there's supposed to be a second layer under that dress of yours."

"I'm not especially concerned with the traditions, Richard seemed perfectly pleased with my selection."

"Clearly, where has he gotten off to?"

"He's right—" Mary began, looking around for where her husband had disappeared.

Edith and Cora remained quiet, trying to stay out of the line of passive aggressive fire.

"Perhaps he's beaming with pride elsewhere. If you'll excuse me," Allison smiled tightly before disappearing into the crowd to greet other guests.

"I'll be off as well," Edith murmured quickly, following the blonde.

"He's in the library," Allison whispered.

"He's in Anthony's study," the redhead replied simply, giving her a knowing look before wading through the crowd once more.


End file.
